Page 120 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

The small, square window above the table he was under is barely big enough for Davey to squeeze through, and I definitely won’t fit. But short of running through fire, it’s our only chance of surviving this.

He coughs violently, his terrified sobs mixing with the rush of blood in my ears as I set him on the table.

“Davey, listen to me.”

Please, God, let me get him out of here…

The heat grows at my back, but I don’t look over my shoulder to see if the fire has made it through the door. If I do, I might panic rather than do what needs to get done.

“I’m going to open this window and help you through it. I’ll be right behind you.”

He nods, tears streaking down from his red, puffy eyes.

“Cover your mouth and nose with your arm, if you can.”

I reach above him, undo the latch, and shove at it, battling the cough that makes me almost double over.

Old paint sticks like glue.

This window probably hasn’t been opened in fifty years.

Fuck.

I give another couple of hard whacks up at the top of the frame near the locking mechanism and finally manage to get it to move up a quarter of an inch from the ledge.

Just barely enough for me to get my fingers under the pane.

My eyes and lungs burn as I shove it up with all my strength and get it wide enough for Davey to slip through.

“Come on.” I slide my hands under his armpits and lift him. “Quickly.”

I help him turn so his legs dangle through the window, which should allow him to come down more safely on the other side after the slight drop. He clings to my arms, and I nudge him out, tightening my grip to lower him as far as I can before my shoulders hit the window.

“I’m going to let go, buddy. You’re okay.”

His sobs fill my ears, along with the crackling of the fire. A deafening crash comes from the barn behind me—so loud and massive that it can only be the beams that have supported this building for the last hundred years giving way.

I may only have seconds before the roof of this room comes down, too.

Terror grips me tightly, squeezing my already struggling lungs, as I release him, and his cry on the way down makes my heart stop.

But I force myself to turn to assess my exit…that’s now fully consumed by the flames.

There’s no way I’m getting out.

I quickly scan the room and the various tools and random pieces of equipment we have stored in it.

My eyes land on an old, rusted axe propped against the wall.

It isn’t mine that’s still up at the house where I like to keep it, but it’ll do.

I snag it, immediately run to the exterior wall farthest from the visible flames, and swing.

The blade bites into the wood easily, splintering it and cracking the old board. I pull back and swing again, using every ounce of strength left as the fire and smoke threaten to consume me.

Coughs rattle my chest, but I push through the burn and bear down on the wall over and over again.

Slowly breaking through board after board.

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